Poetry: Fate

To each mine eyes
The sensation lies
As time draws near
Loathe to appear

For want does thee
Amongst the free
And fate does show
For which to know

What may be shown
For fear alone
Each we brave
The love to crave

For what is not
Is but an afterthought
And for want of few
One must never undo.

By Pamela Mullins
Copyright © 2003 Pamela Mullins. All Rights Reserved.
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